Here's Where I'll Be
by seilleanmor
Summary: Post ep for 5x03. Because he's not going to sit on the stair by himself the whole evening now is he?


"_It's always been fine, because no matter what I'd wake up and you'd be there and I'd know that everything's fine."_

* * *

Martha answers the door, cupping Kate's shoulders and tugging her in for a hug that knocks the breath out of her. The older woman lets go, holds Kate at arm's length.

"Oh Kate, darling, I'm so glad you're here. He's moping terribly." Martha releases a peal of sardonic laughter, a wry smirk painting her face. She pushes at her hair, makes her curls bounce. "There's only so much I can do to distract him."

Kate smiles at that, ducks her head, suddenly feeling so naked, like she's laid bare before his mother. "I wasn't sure if I should wait for him to call or not."

"Oh no darling, he needs you. I've no doubt about that." Martha's hand slides down her arm, the gesture so motherly that Kate's whole body starts humming, arrested by the affectionate touch.

Kate nods, can finally meet Martha's eyes. She smiles again, tries desperately not to blush. "Okay."

"He's in his room. I'll be upstairs if you need me." Martha pauses a moment, the dramatic timing she has such a gift for always in play. "Headphones in."

She winks, disappears up the stairs. Kate laughs, tries to release all her awkwardness. She slips her shoes off, hangs up her jacket in the coat closet, not even thinking about it anymore. The two of them spent a lot of time at the loft while Alexis and Martha were in Europe; it's habit now to make herself comfortable.

She finds him in his room, sitting on top of the covers with his laptop on his thighs. He doesn't look up as she sits at the end of his bed, cradles his feet in her lap. She slides a hand inside his sock, rubs circles over the top of his foot with her thumb, her fingers digging into the arch of his sole.

She waits for him, watches as he finishes typing his sentence and hits the shortcut to save the document, shifts his laptop to the floor. He reaches out for her then, his gaze hot on her as she edges up the bed to his side, curling into him.

"Hi." She presses her open mouth to the side of his neck, darts her tongue out to taste him.

He gets his arm around her back, his palm like a heat pack on her stomach. "Hey. You're here. I was going to call."

"I know." She shrugs, smiles softly up at him. "I wanted to see you. Too many missed opportunities in this case."

She gets a grin for that, a half-hearted leer. "Too much hand shaking?"

"Yeah." She raises an eyebrow, waits on him. It's his play first right? _This is me, softly touching your face. _Something like that.

His fingers are suddenly ghosting over her cheekbone, so very tender with her always but especially now when his heart is raw and aching. His palm splays at her spine but he doesn't have to pull her in. She's already coming.

_Oh_. Well. Hmm, yes-

That too.

* * *

He hadn't dared expect her.

Not that he didn't want her, not that he's ashamed for her to see how the loss of his daughter is a visceral thing roiling in his stomach, spilling up into his throat so he can't speak. He just thought she'd give him space.

And oh, how delicious- how exquisite it is to be wrong, to have her now.

He meets her mouth with his own, testing her, his tongue sliding along her lower lip. Her hand comes up, her fingers gentling him, brushing through the soft hair at the nape of his neck. He smiles against her mouth, gets a hand under her shirt to caress her ribs with his thumb.

She arches into his touch, her stomach kissing his side as she opens for him. He traces the ridge at the roof of her mouth with his tongue, spreads his fingers out to encompass more of her skin, keep her against him.

He said long. He said slow. He knows that, but suddenly he has to see her face. He pulls back, cups her cheek, watches her eyes focus again, her mouth still open. He glances his lips along her jaw; a closed-mouth press that he knows will unmake her. She keens, her eyes falling shut.

"Kate," he hums, her body hot and liquid against him. "Kate. You are always the joy. There are no worst days when there's you."

She laughs at that, the light spilling from her eyes and down her face, pooling in her clavicles. "Gotta be careful what I say to you, huh? Elephant."

"I don't forget when it comes to you." He beams, pushes his nose at her temple, unravelling as she arches her neck to kiss him again.

She slips a knee over his thighs, her hips suddenly settling in his lap and he gasps, sits up, his arms banding around her waist. She grins, her teeth finding his lip.

"Shake my hand, Castle."

* * *

Later, she finds him on the balcony. She slips her hands up and around, cups his ribcage, her nose to his vertebrae. "What are you doing?"

"I don't want to go to sleep." He turns in the circle of her arms, his head bowing so his forehead kisses hers.

She tugs him tighter against her, entirely unsure how to help him. "Why not?"

"It's stupid." He shakes his head, won't meet her eyes. She takes hold of his ears, holds his head still.

It shatters the quiet, unsettles the dust motes of his grief. "Not stupid. You're not stupid. Nonsensical and ridiculous sometimes yes, but never stupid."

"She won't be there when I wake up in the morning. I won't get to make her breakfast and chat to her and kiss the top of her head and wish her a good day." His eyes fill and she breaks for him, would give anything to shoulder some of it.

She slides her hands down to rest at the back of his neck, kisses him like it can help. "I know. I'm sorry."

She takes his hand, tugs him back inside the loft, nudges him towards his bed. He stops her with his hand cradling her hips, kisses her again and again.

"Castle." He travels, sucking at the paper thin skin of her neck where her pulse jumps, his teeth startling at her collar bone. "Castle. I packed a bag. I know it's not the same, but I'll be here in the morning."

He chokes out a sob, buries his face against her shoulder. "Kate. Kate."

"I know." She cups the back of his head, eases him backwards. "I know. It'll be okay. Come on. Sleep."

* * *

He has nightmares. Monsters under his daughter's bed, her broken body still crying to her daddy for help. But when he sits upright, his chest heaving, cool fingers gentle him, trace his spine over and over, slide through his hair.

It's not the same. It won't be the same. But he thinks maybe it's better.


End file.
